


From the Outside

by orphan_account



Series: Sweet Caroline (Do Do Dooo) [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Getting Together, M/M, POV Outsider, Wisdom for the Captain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 05:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Looking at Svech quake as sobs wrack through him, Justin's beginning to realize he maybe should have done something sooner, asked a question or offered some reassurance. He can’t go back in time though, so he’ll just have to do better going forward.





	From the Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction, and I make no profit for it.
> 
> This is part of the Sweet Caroline universe but can be read as a standalone. Set during the 2018-19 Hurricanes season.
> 
> I will personally drag this ship into existence. You're welcome to join me!

This year will be different, Justin thinks.

It has to be. They’ve been on the downward slide for almost a decade, failing to make the playoffs for nine seasons straight, and though he hasn’t been there to see it, to experience the pain of missing a chance at the cup year after year, he can still sense the heavy weight it’s left behind. He had felt like he could choke on it, could suffocate on the tangible scent of defeat that had hung over the locker room when he first arrived and that had lingered until cleanout.

He doesn’t want to feel that again. He doesn’t want to look at his teammates, heads bowed and eyes misty, or worse yet, mouths drawn in tight, resigned lines because losing is the norm.

He wants to win, wants to bring the cup back to Raleigh, and he thinks it could happen this year.

They had lost some good guys over the summer (Skinny to Buffalo, Hanny and Lindy to Calgary), but they’d also brought some good guys in. Between trades and the draft, Justin feels like they’ve got a team that could make it, especially with Roddy leading the charge, changing the atmosphere in the room from the very beginning.

When he’s named captain on the first day of training camp, he looks around at the guys, watches most nod in agreement with the decision, watches others shrug because they’re too new to have any real thoughts on it, but the rookie’s face is scrunched up, eyes squinting in concentration as he listens to Roddy speak, and Justin decides that he should make an extra effort to help the kid understand what’s going on.

Hamilton—Dougie, he’s a part of the team now—leans over and whispers something to the rookie, slow and easy, and when the kid turns and mumbles something back, he repeats himself, pointing to coach and to Justin, sounding the words out slowly until things click and the rookie shoots him a bright grin, all straight teeth and deep dimples, and Dougie offers a small smile in return.

A warmth settles in Justin’s chest, and it’s almost like watching Jaxon help Jade with something, patiently guiding her through her math homework or the latest NHL video game. It’s a nice thought, a good comparison, but he’ll never say it out loud for fear of forever being the biggest dad captain in the league.  

As training goes on, he notices the way the rookie—recently dubbed Svech—seems to almost seek Dougie out, English spilling from his lips in broken phrases, eyes big and wide to convey his confusion, and Dougie takes it in stride, never sending the kid away or growing frustrated when it takes a few times before Svech gets it.

He’s glad to see them getting along, glad to watch as the team comes together over that first month, pushing through training camp and the preseason.

\----

“Sebby can extend it to thirteen,” Reims says confidently when they’re out for dinner in Phoenix. “He’s on fire. There’s no way he won’t keep this up.”

“Longest streak in franchise history!” Marty hollers, raising his glass and nodding to where Sebby is seated down the table, head ducked as everyone chips in their praise.

“Here’s to a new record,” Jordo adds, “and more to come.”

That gets a nod from everyone. They haven’t had the worst start to their season, but they’re losing as much as they’re winning, and half is not enough for the Stanley Cup. Hell, it’s not even enough for the playoffs.

Something’s in the air this year though, an unspoken agreement among the veterans to go further and an unseasoned enthusiasm from the younger guys who haven’t yet learned the heartache of missing the Cup, the Finals, the playoffs year after year.

“Next round’s on Sebby then, eh?” Pesh asks. “I mean, more points means more money, right?”

“Hey!” Sebby protests, looking every bit the upset twenty-one year old that he is, brows furrowed and mouth dropping into a pout. “Rookies should not have to pay for all of you.”

There’s murmured agreement from the other rookies, and Pesh rolls his eyes fondly.

“Yeah, and in any case, we should probably cut you off now, man,” Ginner says, patting Pesh’s shoulder. “We’ve got a game to win tomorrow. I think two drinks is enough for tonight.”

Slinging an arm around his neck, Pesh tugs him down and knuckles at his hair, ignoring Ginner’s squawked protests. “Since when did you become Mister Responsible, hmm? Is our little Brock growing up?”

Chuckles break out around the table, and conversation moves on when Wally asks about an English phrase he’d heard the other day, some idiom that didn’t seem to translate well.

Leaning back in his chair, Justin listens to his teammates’ failed attempts at explaining the intricacies of the English language, trying not laugh at the increasingly confused and distressed look on Wally’s face. Grinning, he looks up and down the table, cataloging whose talking to whom, who seems a bit more subdued than normal, who is…who is leaning into Dougie with a soft smile.

Justin tries not to stare. He does, but it’s hard with the way Dougie has an arm carelessly thrown over the back of Svech’s chair, slouched and comfortable, as Svech says something to him. His head’s tilted down and his fingers curl around Svech’s arm to keep him close as he speaks, breathing his words right into Dougie’s ear.

He shouldn’t stare. It’s rude, and it’s obvious, and whatever the hell is happening over there doesn’t need the attention of the entire team.

He knows they’ve been hanging out. They’re both on the younger side, no kids or wives or girlfriends to take up their time, and they’re both new to the team, learning the Carolina system and trying to find their place. It’s only normal that they’d end up spending time together, and that’s not a problem, not at all, but looking at them now (Dougie’s showing him something on his phone, and Justin is pretty damn sure that Svech’s forearm is braced on Dougie’s thigh as he leans in to squint at the screen), he wonders just how close they really are off the rink and outside the locker room.

\----

“Honey, where’s the second jar of salsa?” Kelly asks, wandering into the den where most of the guys have gathered for a videogame tournament. The Finns are battling it out with the younger Canadians, and Jaxon has declared that he will play the winner for the championship title.

“Salsa?”

“Yeah, I had you go get an extra bottle the other day? On the way back from practice?”

Justin wracks his brain, trying to remember if it was before or after their last road trip. “I think I put it in the pantry, second shelf maybe?”

Kelly fondly shakes her head. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t put it in the right spot,” she says with feigned exasperation.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her and leans over for a small peck.

“I’m sure you can make it up to me some way.”

“Your wish is my command,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows absurdly as he trails a hand down her side.

She hums, “Yes, maybe I’ll have you wash Jaxon’s gear for the week or finally have you volunteer at one of Jade’s school activities. You always somehow manage to be out of town when those roll around.”

Grimacing, he looks over to where Jade is holding court for some of the guys and their wives or girlfriends, telling a story about how she scored on him during a game of ball hockey the other day, reenacting the moment of victory and exaggerating Justin’s despair at missing the save. “I think one seven-year-old is enough for me. I’ll take the gear.”

“Knew you would,” she grins.

He glances over at the clock, brow furrowing. “What do we need another jar for anyways? The ball drops in seven, eight minutes.”

“Everyone gets hungrier after midnight, I swear.”

He pauses, thinking of his own—rare—late night eating habits, and shrugs, “Fair enough,” before turning back when a cheer goes up to see that Turbo has lived up to his name, speeding past everyone to a victory in Mario Kart.

Almost immediately, Jaxon is nudging Foegs out of the way because they “only have like five minutes, and I need to finish the year with a win,” and Justin watches as Sebby gives Turbo a few well-timed pokes, giggling as his friend shouts at him in Finnish when he narrowly avoids plunging off the course Jaxon had chosen.

Turbo loses, but it’s by a narrow margin, and he’s shoving playfully at Sebby when Kelly returns, calling them into the living room for the ball drop. “We’ve only got a minute!” and everyone shuffles out, crowding into the living room to watch as the countdown begins.

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN!”

He slides his hand into Kelly’s and pulls her close.

“SIX, FIVE, FOUR, THREE!”

“Love you,” he murmurs.

“TWO, ONE!”

“Love you, too,” she answers and leans in for a kiss, lips curving in a smile.

There’s cheering all around and the sound of fireworks from the TV. Jade is shouting about getting the sparklers, and he thinks Marty might have his phone out, recording the celebration and hollering about the year of the pig, while someone tries to tell him that doesn’t start until the Chinese New Year’s, which sets off a whole round of questions about why there are two New Year’s.

Laughing, he shakes his head, turning to go find the sparklers, and catches sight of Dougie coming down one of the hallways. He’s wide-eyed and pale, hands nervously fiddling with his keys and his phone as he gnaws at his lower lip. His gaze is fixed on the front door, and it’s like he doesn’t even see them.

“Dougie!” Justin calls.

He doesn’t look over, just offers an aborted wave as he slides out the door, and Justin hesitates for a moment, wondering if he should go after him to see what happened or if the guy just needs some time to himself. He wavers, weighing the pros and cons, but then Svech emerges from the same hallway, and he looks wrecked.

If Dougie had looked shaken, Svech looks like his world has been rocked, and not in the good way. His shoulders are sagging, and he keeps rubbing at his eyes like he’s crying but trying not to. This is bad. This is very bad.

He spins back around and snags a hand around Kelly’s elbow. “Hey, babe, I was gonna get the sparklers for Jade, but there’s something I need to take care of ASAP.”

She narrows her eyes at him, gaze sharp. “Does it have anything to do with Dougie sprinting out of here and Andrei pretending he isn’t crying over there?”

“Yeah, I don’t…I don’t know what’s going on, but…”

“Go talk to him,” she says. “Dougie seems like someone who would need a bit of space to process, but Andrei looks like he needs someone right now.”

“You’re the best,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“And don’t you forget it!”

He weaves through the crowd, returning every “Happy New Year!” with a polite smile and nod, before getting to Svech.

“Hey kid,” he starts, reaching a hand out to grip his shoulder. “How about we go find some space to talk?”

He isn’t sure Svech actually understands the words (he’s obviously been drinking a little, and there’s a haunted look in his eyes that makes Justin think he’s in his head too much to really comprehend anything), but he nods and follows after him silently, sniffling quietly.

They go to the study that has become more of a storage space for spare equipment and all the books the kids read for school, but it’s empty and has some space to sit, and no one is going to come in here, so it’s a safe spot for whatever conversation is about to go down.

Patting the second chair, Justin takes a seat and looks Svech over, watching as he carefully lowers himself down before collapsing forward, curling in on himself enough that his head almost touches his knees as he cries.

It isn’t loud. Justin probably wouldn’t even know he was crying if he couldn’t see the way his shoulders shake and his fingers tremble as he wipes uselessly at his eyes, misery apparent with each silent heave of his back.

Justin’s seen teammates cry after losing in the playoffs; he’s seen his children sob after scraping a knee as they learned to ride a bike; he’s seen Kelly weep when a grandparent passed away. But this isn’t any of those.

If pushed, Justin would probably say that this is what heartbreak looks like, agonizing in a way nothing else is, and he can’t help the irrational surge of anger he feels at Dougie for running away and leaving Svech like this.

But he can’t be mad. He can’t because he doesn’t know what happened, hasn’t know what’s been going on between those two since he first saw them talk at training camp, and looking at Svech quake as sobs wrack through him, he’s beginning to realize he maybe should have done something sooner, asked a question or offered some reassurance. He can’t go back in time though, so he’ll just have to do better going forward.

Resting a hand between Svech’s shoulder blades, he murmurs meaningless phrases that calm his kids down after failing a test or losing at ball hockey, thumb stroking over the fabric of his t-shirt, and he waits.

Eventually, the tears dry up, and Svech is left breathing deeply, head still bowed as he scrubs at his cheeks vigorously. He rakes a hand through his hair, then lays his palms on his thighs and forces himself up, eyes red and swollen but focused.

“Sorry, Willy. Not want ruin New Year for you.”

“It’s alright.”

“Should probably go home,” he mutters and begins to stand, but Justin gently pushes him back down.

“Maybe not yet,” he says, soft but sure.

Worry clouds Svech’s eyes, and he bites nervously at the inside of his cheek. “Not yet?”

“Yeah, I…” Justin turns the words over in his head, unsure how to begin, what to say that won’t scare Svech off. “I’m sorry for not being a better captain to you,” he ends up saying, and Svech’s brows dip low in confusion.

“You’re great captain, Willy. Why you say sorry?”

“Because I haven’t been there for you like I should, not for you and not for Dougie.” At the mention of their departed teammate, Svech’s eyes go a bit glassy, and he looks away.

“What…what you mean?” he mumbles.

“I mean that I know something is going on between you two, and I haven’t ever taken the time to ask you about it or to offer you support or anything, and after tonight, I’m worried that I’m too late.”

Svech swallows, eyes flicking over to Justin then away. “Nothing going on.”

Justin’s eyebrows rise in disbelief. “Look, kid, I may not be the most observant off the ice, but I’ve seen you two together. And I know that maybe right now nothing is going on, what with Dougie running out earlier, but clearly something’s up if he’s leaving so fast it’s like the cops are on his tail and you’re left crying in his wake.”

“Nothing going on,” Svech repeats, voice rough around the words. “Nothing happen…before tonight,” he adds, and it’s almost a whisper.

It comes as a shock to Justin, and he can’t help but gape at Svech for a minute because there’s no way that’s true. He’s seen them around each other, knows they get together on off-days and after practices to grab lunch or to watch some Netflix show they both like. He’s seen the way Dougie always has an arm around Svech at team dinners or in cellies. There’s no way nothing else has happened. No way.

“What do you mean nothing happened before tonight?” he finally asks, pushing past the shock to get the words out.

“Nothing happen before tonight. We’re friends; we hang out a lot. Spend lots of time together, but we just friends.”

“And do you want to be just friends?”

Svech heaves a sigh. “No. I…I not realize in beginning. Dougie so nice, help with English, explain when I not understand. Has car, so he drive me to practice, take shopping. Think I just…like him as best friend, but…I realize not just best friends…or I want not just best friends.”

“Okay.”

“I…I start think about kiss him—is first time I think about that with guy—and think…is good, nice.” He blushes then, a red flush creeping up his cheeks. “Think about touch him and…and be with him.”

Justin keeps a neutral face, not wanting Svech to think he can’t tell him this, can’t trust him with it. “And then?”

“I’m always so scare,” Svech admits. “Not know if Dougie like boys. Not know if I like boys…or just like Dougie.” He shrugs helplessly. “I think about tell him, but not do. Too scare. Then, tonight, have little bit to drink and think ‘I can do. Dougie is nice. Even if…even if not like, he still be nice.’”

“Okay.”

“So I see him go down hall, know no one else there, so I follow.” His flush deepens. “Tell him he should call me Andrei. Is…is better than Svech, like we not just teammates. Then, ask him call me Andryusha…is small name for friends and family. He do.” He cuts himself off, and Justin has a feeling he knows what comes next. “Then, I kiss him, and is good, really good. He…he return kiss at first, but then…he stop,” and he’s getting choked up again, words coming out haltingly. “He say sorry but we can’t. Then he leave.”

It’s quiet in the wake of Svech’s story, and Justin mulls over everything he’s told him, repeating the words to himself before speaking again. “He kissed you back?”

Svech nods.

“And when he left, he said that you can’t? Not that he didn’t want to, but that he can’t?”

Another nod.

“Well, that’s not so bad then.”

Svech scoffs, managing to looks both hurt and offended. “He leave, Willy. Say sorry and walk away. Is bad.”

“No, no,” Justin says, leaning forward like he’s about to run Svech through a play. “I know it seems bad, and Dougie definitely could’ve handled this better, but it’s really not that bad.”

“No?” Svech asks, a small flicker of something in his eyes.

“No,” he answers firmly. “He likes you. He really likes you, man, as more than friends.”

“You not know that.”

“But I do,” he assures him, shifting to face Svech head on. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and let me tell you, I have only ever looked at my wife like that. And he’s the only one, besides coach, willing to stay hours after practice to help you with your shot or to lift weights. I also know he sits through that weird Russian show you’re always watching, and trust me when I say that’s only something you do for someone you really care about.”

“But he leave,” Svech reminds him.

“Yeah, and I know that was a kind of a shitty thing for him to do, but I don’t think it’s because he didn’t want to kiss you. I mean, obviously he wanted to because he kissed you back, but you probably took him by surprise. You sprang that on him; plus you’re in a house full of other people, and knowing Dougie, that isn’t his first choice for where to have a first kiss.

“Then, you have to factor in the fact that you’re teammates,” he holds up a hand to cut off whatever Svech was about to say, “and that’s not a problem. You won’t be the first teammates to date, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

Svech’s mouth drops open in shock.

“I won’t tell you who because that’s their business, but dating a teammate has worked for other guys in the past, so it can work for you, too. Just remember to keep your private life out of the locker room and your work out of the bedroom, and you’ll be fine.”

Eyes round as saucers, Svech gapes, and Justin grins wryly.

“But you have to remember that Dougie is probably extra aware when it comes to teammate interactions. He’s been chased out of enough locker rooms for not being the typical hockey bro that he might not think a relationship with a guy, especially with another teammate, is a good idea. Also, he might be worried about how a relationship would impact the team. He’s an easygoing guy, doesn’t want to rock the boat, so he might not think it’s okay to date a teammate.

“And he’s older than you,” Justin throws in, “by more than just a couple years, so he might not be the most comfortable dating an eighteen year old.”

Svech purses his lips in thought, eyes fixed on some distant point as he listens to Justin.

“Look, I know you might not think so right now, but he likes you a lot. Just, maybe try and talk to him before going in for a kiss. Let him know what you actually want. Also, do it somewhere private. Dougie would probably appreciate being alone with you for that conversation.”

Nodding, Svech finally looks over at him, expression tentative. “You really think he like me?”

“Absolutely.”

“And it not be problem for team if…if we date?”

“Nope. No problem at all.”

He rolls his lip between his teeth, knee bouncing anxiously. “Okay. I talk to him, see what happen.”

“You’ve got this kid,” Justin tells him, pressing a firm hand to his shoulder. “It’s going to work out.”

“Yeah.”

“Now, do you have a ride home or do I need to get you one?”

\----

Justin walks out of Roddy's office with a sigh. He’d wanted to get home in time for lunch with Kelly—she’d made his favorite pasta salad—but coach had called him in, wanting to talk about some line changes, and an hour had flown by. There are probably plenty of leftovers, but it’s nearing two o’clock, and there’s no way Kelly hasn’t already eaten.

He heads toward the locker room, intent on packing up and getting out as fast as possible, and waves to one of the equipment managers as he passes by, thoughts on the waiting meal and the chance to have a couple hours home alone with Kelly.

He isn’t expecting any of the guys to still be around, but when he gets inside, he catches sight of Svech standing across the room, hands on his hips. He’s about to call out, ask him why he’s still here, but the words die in his throat when he realizes Svech isn’t at his own locker and he’s definitely not alone.

Nothing…untoward is happening, but he feels like he’s intruding on a private moment when he realizes Dougie is seated in the stall, legs splayed wide to allow Svech to stand between them as he talks.

“No, Mama want to meet again,” he is saying, tone fond enough to convey the expression he’s probably sporting, though Justin can’t see it.

“But she won’t actually be meeting me,” Dougie responds, and he reaches a hand out, wrapping it around the back of Svech’s thigh like it’s something he’s done a hundred times. “We met months ago, and I’ve seen her tons of times since then.”

“Yes, but is different because we boyfriends now.”

The words aren’t a surprise, but the confidence behind them is. When Justin had spoken to him at New Year’s, Svech had seemed so unsure that Dougie had any interest in him at all, and now he’s calmly saying they’re in a committed relationship like it’s just another fact of life. The sky is blue; hockey is great; and apparently, Svech and Dougie are dating.

“I literally saw her last week though, and we were dating then.”

Svech steps closer and lays a hand on Dougie’s shoulder, the other moving to card through his curls. “But she not know then.”

“She not—? She didn’t know?”

Svech shakes his head.

“Why not?”

“I…I not want jinx,” he admits quietly. “I think, we stay together two weeks, I tell mama. Was two weeks yesterday, so I tell her.”

Dougie sighs and drags Svech forward until he folds down into his lap, straddling his thighs as his arms loop around Dougie’s neck. “You’re not going to jinx this,” he says, just barely loud enough for Justin to hear, and he really should leave. This has gone from private to intimate, but he feels like his feet are glued to the ground, unwilling and unable to move.

“I’m hockey player. We’re very superstitious.”

Dougie snorts and presses a lingering kiss to Svech’s jaw. “Thought we weren’t supposed to let hockey stuff affect our relationship,” he grumbles, hands stroking up Svech’s thighs, and Justin really needs to leave.

“Not same thing.”

“No?”

“No,” Svech breathes out and bends down for a real kiss, long and deep, and there’s probably tongue involved. No, there’s definitely tongue involved, and this is not something Justin ever needed to see.

They pull apart with a slick, wet sound, breaths shallow, and Justin takes a step back.

“You’re not going to jinx this,” Dougie repeats, and it comes out like a promise.

Svech ducks in for another kiss before pulling back. “Okay,” he concedes, “but mama still want to meet you as boyfriend.”

With a chuckle, Dougie agrees, tilting his head up for another kiss, hands curling over Svech’s hips and around.

Eyes averted, Justin sneaks out the door, barely making a sound as he leaves, and he wonders when would be the best time to talk to them about being more careful if they’re not ready to let the team know.


End file.
